


Survivors

by Shatterpath



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Bionic Woman (2007), CSI: Miami
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Dark, F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-27
Updated: 2010-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, not quite our own, Galactica returns to earth in a wave of violence that forever alters our world. What happens to the survivors?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivors

**Author's Note:**

> From my February 2010 crack!fic spree. My best bud, Ariestess, gave me this evil one. _Starbuck, Ruth, & Natalia are in a threesome relationship. Who started it, who was the easiest to sway, and who was the most reluctant to get involved?_
> 
> My comment at the time: *blink, blink* Dear goddess, where the FUCK did all that come from? Dark and intense and beat out in like an HOUR. In the middle of the damn night. In the dark. Alone. Dammit…
> 
> Oh, and this was also the hardest one to write, because, really what the hell do these three have in common?

Oh, they'd found Earth all right. Found it and brought their gods-damned war with them.

So many are dead now it's as though we've been plunged into a new Dark Ages. Few of us were in a place to escape the nuclear attacks and fewer still adapted to the devastated world left behind.

I'd been in Seattle for business for Burkett. No backup, nothing dangerous, just me and my constant paranoia of a life few can understand. That morning, I just had a feeling, a niggling worry like standing too close to a heat source and knowing it would burn you all too soon. So I'd grabbed my rental, twitched with impatience waiting for one of the great white ferries to take me away from the Emerald City and the great big bull's-eye I could almost see superimposed over its skyline.

Heart beating fast, I raced the feeling, sweating like I knew I was in someone's crosshairs. Narrow country 'highways' wound me through the thick forests and I could almost smell them burning.

Little did I know…

Only with the massive Olympic Mountains between me and the city did I stop completely panicking. Nestled in some out of the way corner of fire road against the shield of the mountains, I stared over the distant Pacific Ocean… and waited.

With the falling of dusk, it happened.

Like a really amazing special effect, it roared over the curve of the earth like some sort of avenging beast, trailing killing fire. Bigger than my brain could comprehend, it lit the mountains phosphorescent as it burned past, high in the atmosphere. Some miracle of geography saved me, but I have the burn scars to prove my witness of the crash of the mighty Battlestar Galactica to the ancestral home of her people. Even fewer of them would survive the apocalypse begun by their arrival.

Small consolation to those of us they destroyed.

Agonized by the burns, choking in the fouled air, short on air, I could still feel the impact so very far away. Much later I would find out that the ship clipped the Rockies, tore a scar a third the length of North Dakota before skipping like a stone three times across Minnesota before finally tumbling to its fiery death into Lake Superior, boiling off billions of gallons of water and sending a devastating tsunami into the lower lakes.

Then, the damn Cylons threw everything they had at Earth, completely panicked by so many Humans. Seattle wasn't nuked, surprisingly, but considering what little was left over by the flyby, well, not so shocking after all.

It took me a long time-- I'd stopped keeping track of the days early on-- to find companionship. Ironically, a crashed pilot from that damned ship, one leg shattered so badly she was starved half-dead in the wreckage of her little fighter plane of a spaceship. Kara's fancy sci-fi suit kept her warm and the fairly constant rainfall provided water, caught in her helmet. It wasn't fun hacking off her trapped and mangled left calf, but it also felt strangely cathartic after what her big ship had done to my planet.

Besides, I don't like working alone and she makes a marvelous minion.

It took months for Kara to heal enough to travel. In that time I became a deadly shot with her zap gun and taught myself every forest craft skill I could dredge up from deep, deep places in my brain. Kara learned to dress venison and rodent, built useful things with the abundant supplies from Mother Nature and the fallen fighter ship, and concentrated on healing. She didn't talk much, had to be prodded to speak up and explain to me what had happened, but I'm a trained psychologist and I've cracked far tougher nuts than she. I didn't even have to resort to threats. Really, she only wants to please, has that sort of slavishly loyal dog-like personality that is so useful to someone like me. Once you get past her swagger and pain anyway.

She's mine now, body and soul.

Oh, the nights started out just sharing body heat in the spring chill, but soon grew heated and carnal. Gender issues never occurred to either of us. Really, the world had pretty much ended, who gives a fuck about genital assignment?

Once Kara could hobble, we were inseparable, had acquired that mind-sharing that comes with isolation and trauma, and were ready to find out what the hell, if anything, was left. So we wisely set out for the coast, despite it being dead away from Seattle. It was a good decision, getting us to us a little town as the hottest part of summer was falling away.

Kara found Natalia and somehow managed to not get herself killed in the process. The local refuges had fallen under the sway of some lunatic I took great pleasure in killing and displacing after carefully plotting it out like a hunt. Seems Natalia was a prize he was determined to have. And Natalia, the smart girl, had pretty much gone animal to stay the fuck away from him and his raping, murdering pack of stray human dogs.

Luckily, the Glock she bears like a holy sign had gotten dirty with time and understandable neglect, and it didn't fire when turned on Kara. Once we'd talked through months of trauma, Natalia was as loyal as Kara to my superior survival skills. Turns out she'd been a criminalist in Miami, here on vacation and the trauma of what happened to the city girl of sunshine-- coupled with an abusive past-- had pretty much cracked under the strain. She's mostly healed now, though she did take a little too much savage glee in torturing the little local wannabe warlord before I finally took mercy on him.

No sane man, woman, or child ignores that slightly crazy look she gets in those dark eyes sometimes. Oh she might be supermodel gorgeous and not look like much of a threat, but no one makes that mistake twice. Once I earned her trust and helped her absorb the worst of her traumas and get back a fairly intact personality, though not the one she started with I bet, she has been as instrumental to me as Kara.

The hardest task was integrating Kara and Natalia together as 'pack mates' for lack of a better description. Thankfully, I eventually channeled all that burgeoning aggression into screaming, sweaty sex and it all worked out. Besides, it keeps us bonded in a visceral way and keeps them cognizant of their positions to me as trusted lieutenants. No others will be lovers. I don't need anyone else. They're perfect.

Together, we are an unstoppable force of nature, leading whatever refuges we can accept into a tough band of survivalists. I'm afraid all too many of them are not acceptable and have to be run off or killed to keep the rest of us safe. No one challenges me and my lieutenants, my hands, my Kara and Natalia.


End file.
